


Blankets

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Animals, Comfort, Ficlet, Friendship, M/M, MWPP Era, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment in the shack with a sleepy bunch of marauders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blankets

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Sirius—or Padfoot, rather—pretends he’s still asleep, mostly so he won’t have to deal with Peter. Prongs doesn’t get that luxury. From the way he snorts and wakes Padfoot up, Padfoot assumes he’s been hit with a pebble or something. Padfoot cracks one eye open to see a human Peter poking in through the doorway across the room, whispering frantically, “James! Psst, James! Come on!”

Prongs make an awkward sort of yawning sound: the kind of thing you’d never hear from a real stag. He shakes his head out and half-climbs to his feet, transforming halfway. Sprawled out on the floor and half-sitting, propped up against a sleeping werewolf, James groggily mumbles, “What?”

“James!” Peter squeaks. “Don’t go human around him!”

Because Remus’ muzzle is about the same size as his own, Padfoot has to tilt his head to see over the other side, where James is looking mildly irritated. “He’s sleeping.”

“He’s a werewolf!” Peter hisses, looking positively terrified. Only his head and hands are through the doorway; the rest of him hidden in the hall, as though putting a toe inside the room will get him mauled. 

James scoffs casually and insists, “It’s just Remy.” And in typical Gryffindor fashion, he ruffles the fur behind Moony’s ear, fearless as ever. Peter makes a horrified sound and ducks out of view, and James grumbles, “Alright, alright—what do you want?”

“We should go back now,” Peter says without reappearing. “You said you’d help me with that Transfiguration essay, remember?”

“What about Remus? He shouldn’t have to wake up all alone.”

When Peter’s face peeks back around, Padfoot can see the struggle in his eyes, even through the darkness and distance. He’s probably contemplating pointing out that Remus is the werewolf, not them, and they shouldn’t have to suffer that way, but he isn’t stupid enough to say it again. James doesn’t agree, and Sirius just won’t put up with that kind of talk. Instead, Peter says, “Sirius’ll be with him.” 

That’s true. Padfoot still doesn’t move, though, in case he gets sucked in. When James grumbles, “Alright,” Peter grins triumphantly and leaves, and Padfoot can hear him scampering down the hall. Padfoot tilts his head up again to see James bend over Moony, pecking his forehead and mumbling, “Sweet dreams, Remus.” Sirius makes a very quiet barking sound, and with a muffled laugh, James leans over to pet him. “You too, Pads.” Padfoot grins with all his teeth. 

James gets up and stretches, then promptly becomes a stag again, trailing lazily out of the room with clicking hooves. Padfoot rolls onto his side, prepared to fall back asleep, pressed up tight against Moony’s side, warm and soft. It isn’t easy to tire the werewolf out, but sometimes when they’re rough enough, it happens. Padfoot feels like he could sleep for a week. 

On the bed, though. A stray glance around the room reminds him of it, and now that they don’t have a stag to worry about, there should be enough for room for a werewolf and a dog. At least, there has before. The bed frame must be magically reinforced, Padfoot thinks, because together they weigh a whale. 

Getting to all fours is a bit troublesome and full of large yawns. It’s hard to stretch properly as a dog, but he does flick his tail out and crick his toes. Then he nudges Moony with his muzzle. As a human, he could carry Remus easily, but carrying a werewolf just isn’t an option. It takes a few pushes and then a loud bark, and then he starts licking Moon’s face, before Moony finally wakes up and growls. Padfoot yips happily and walks around to his other side, pawing at Moony. Moony grumbles deeply, but eventually he climbs to his feet, looking supremely annoyed. 

There’s no way Padfoot’s going to sleep alone. He doesn’t want to lose his heater, first of all, and second, he wants Remus to wake up with a comforting armful of fur. Remus has told Sirius over and over again how much it means to him, waking up next to them, and that appreciative smile makes Sirius warm in ways he can’t even explain. Now he starts trying to push Moony towards the bed, walking behind him and swiping at his rear. 

If Moony were more awake, it would be more dangerous. As it is, Moony’s in a tired, grumpy mood, and he saunters in the direction Padfoot herds him with several muffled complaints. Padfoot ignores all the noises, and he barks approvingly when Moony climbs onto the bed. Moony walks in a small circle and settles back down, head at the end of the bed, facing the doorway. Padfoot leaps up and snuggles in next to him, even throwing one front leg over his back. Moony doesn’t seem to mind; he drifts right back off to sleep. 

Padfoot squirms in the old, dingy blankets, getting comfortable. He’s almost nodded off again when he hears footsteps in the doorway. Or rather, hoof-steps. Sirius rolls onto his back, paws in the air, to watch James pad over to the corner, transforming back to pick up his forgotten bag. He tosses it up into the air before quickly transforming and ducking his head, catching the bag’s handle in his antlers. It looks silly, and Padfoot makes a laughing noise that sounds more like a whine; that’s the trouble with canine vocal cords. Prongs looks over and sticks out his deer tongue, looking just as stupid. 

Prongs comes over to the bed on his way out, flicking the bag out of his way. He nuzzles into Moony, earning a tired growl of friendship. Padfoot licks Prongs’ nose before he gets any closer, and Prongs makes a huffing sort of sound. Sirius smiles and lifts a paw: his version of a wave. Prongs stomps one foot: his version. Then he turns and trots back out, leaving Padfoot and Moony alone in the dark, curled up on the small bed.

It’s harder to fall asleep again. Padfoot doesn’t know why; his body’s still exhausted, and Moony’s thick, even breathing is very soothing. But he’s all alert. Padfoot twists around, rolling onto his side and staring at the far wall. Then he twists back over, to find a small human boy curled up next to him, still asleep and naked. 

Padfoot freezes instantly, not wanting to wake his human companion. Then he gently worms his paw under Remus’ arm, pressing it into his chest. A little warm, but growing cold. Remus’ chestnut hair has fall into his eyes, and the jagged scars stand out sharply against his pale skin. In a few moments, he starts to tremble slightly. Padfoot debates tucking him under the blankets, but figures that’ll probably wake him. Remus looks like such an angel when he sleeps, and he deserves rest more than anyone. 

So Padfoot just presses as close to him as possible, sleeping practically on top of him, and throwing one front and one back leg around him possessively. Curled up like this, Remus seems even smaller than Padfoot. But then, even for a dog, Padfoot’s particularly large. He tries to give Remus all his body heat. He tucks his muzzle under Remus’ chin, and Remus reaches over him, subconsciously gravitating to the warmth. 

Then Remus makes a soft yawning sound that couldn’t be called anything but adorable. So much for not waking him up. Since his cover’s already blown, Padfoot pulls back to swipe his long tongue over Remus’ face. Remus splutters instantly and shifts to wipe at it, groaning.

But as soon as he’s dropped his hands, he’s smiling, wet cheek and all. Padfoot does his best to grin back. Remus wraps him in a sudden, tight hug, all thin limbs and smooth skin. Padfoot does his best to return the hug, sighing happily. 

Remus mumbles quietly into his fur, “Thank you.”

Padfoot barks, which probably comes off as ‘you’re welcome,’ but he means it as, ‘I love you, baby.’ He licks Remus’ ear to better convey that, and Remus giggles. Then he blushes, seeming to remember his nakedness, and he disentangles himself from Padfoot’s legs. Sirius transforms back himself, in his full uniform, and he shuffles back, helping tuck Remus under the covers. An Animagus’ clothes don’t get ripped like a werewolf’s do. Once they’re both under the covers, Sirius starts to unbutton his shirt. 

Remus asks sleepily, “What’re you doing?”

Sirius shrugs the white fabric off his shoulders and turns on his side to swing it around Remus’ back. He grabs each of Remus’ wrists and stuffs them into the armholes, pulling the shirt up. He starts doing up the buttons, insisting, “Keeping you warm until we go back. I’ve got the spare robes, but I just remembered that James had the spare uniform, and he went to go study with Wormtail.”

Cheeks flushed red, Remus mumbles, “Thank you,” and then, “...it’s okay, though...”

“Nope,” Sirius cuts him off. “You need to keep warm. And you need to rest, and with you lying all cute and naked and tempting next to me, there’s no way you’d actually get that. I’m not a saint, you know.”

Remus laughs, even though he probably knows that Sirius isn’t entirely joking. Remus is difficult to resist at the best of times, let alone in bed together. The trouble is that he looks just as adorable in Sirius’ too-big shirt as he would bare, even if this does at least cover up some of his more alluring areas. The shirt’s just long enough to cover his lap, too. The blanket covers the sight, but when Sirius shifts closer, he reaches down to tug the shirt low enough to keep two layers of fabric between them. It doesn’t stop one of his legs from shifting between Remus’ though, and it doesn’t stop Remus from wrapping his arms back around Sirius, where they belong. Remus snuggles into him, sighing, “You’re the best, Sirius. You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

Sirius feels bad for Remus. During this time of the month, he always does. But he still feels inexplicably _good_ , too, and he hooks his chin over Remus’ shoulder, murmuring, “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

Remus sniffs, “You’re too good for me.”

Sirius stifles a laugh, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. Everything good in him—which isn’t much—is inspired by Remus. Remus is the only reason he wasn’t expelled years ago, and Remus, albeit along with James, is what keeps away the darkness inside him. He firmly believes he was the first Black to be put in Gryffindor so he could be right here, curled up with a sleepy, harmless werewolf, all aglow with contentment. 

Yawning next to Sirius’ ear, Remus whispers, “Goodnight, Sirius. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He doesn’t repeat the first part. Even under the full moon, as long as they’re together, it’s always a good night. And it always will be.


End file.
